


Animal in You

by soulsearchingeyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulsearchingeyes/pseuds/soulsearchingeyes
Summary: INCOMPLETE FANFIC IDK HOW THIS WESBITE WORKS SORRY LOL - Padfoot is on the run until a certain Muggleborn adopts the stray. Hermione Granger's heart is broken when she realizes that her new pup cannot join her for her third year at Hogwarts. While she can only see Padfoot during breaks, her new kneazle Crookshanks fills the void during the school year. Who knew that a dog and a kneazle could have the same piercing grey eyes?
Relationships: Hermione Granger - Relationship, Regulus Black - Relationship, Sirius Black - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione sat in the passenger's seat of her father's car. Waterdrops trickled down the window. It was nearing the end of summer and the weather reflected that. While Hermione's heart longed to spend all day everyday lounging by the pool, she really missed her boys. Harry and Ron were awful pen pals. She sent them letters detailing how her summer had gone and she expected the same in return. Harry's responses were understandably short. As far as she could tell, his aunt and uncle were still being less than pleasant. However, Ron was raised in a wizarding household where owl delivered letters were the norm. There was no reason for him to ignore her letters and only respond by trying to play hangman with her.

Hermione's eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat as she watched vehicles before her swerve. A large black dog attempted to weave through the traffic, narrowly evading the cars. Horns were blaring as drivers yelled at the dog to get out of the road. The van in front of them came to a stop and honked at the cowering dog.

Her father heaved a sigh. "That poor dog. Look at him, Mione. He's nothing but fur and bones."

Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed. "I have to help him, Dad."

"Sweetheart, it's rush hour," he tried to reason.

"I have to help him," she repeated, adrenaline and anger filling her.

Hermione swung the passenger door open and hopped out of her seat. Her sandals made loud "FLOP"s in the rain puddles as she ran to the dog. His head was bowed and his tail was between his legs. His hunched over body displayed the skin that appeared strained against his protruding spine. He stumbled forward and collapsed.

The van honked. "Oh, why don't you shut up?" Hermione shouted at the driver.

Hermione stopped two feet from the dog and crouched down, her hand outreached in front of her.

"Come here, love. I won't hurt you," she softly cooed. Her fingers brushed off her hair that stuck to her forehead. The large black mass raised its head to her. His piercing grey eyes met her brown ones. Hermione saw the pain behind them. She had a feeling that he had been on the run for a while.

"I'll take care of you. I'll protect you."

The dog never broke eye contact with her as he limped to her. Hermione quickly accessed his health. His toenails were overgrown and curved. His long, black fur was matted at the ends, and frankly he smelled like…well…shit.

"Good boy," she told him as he fell into her arms.

Hermione closed her arms around him and lifted him up with a loud grunt. In the embrace she felt all of his ribs. His heart was hammering under her palm. Amidst the sound of traffic, she carried him to the back to her car and into the backseat. His body weight didn't even cause the leather to deepen. Hermione shut the door and resumed her place in the passenger seat. She heaved a sigh as she pulled her wet locks into a bun. Her father simply put the car in drive and continued with the flow of traffic.

He broke the silence, "Yes."

"What?"

"Yes. We can keep him," he answered her unspoken question.

Hermione gazed up at her father, his image distorted through the tears that welled in her eyes.

"Hermione," her father began, "when have I ever told you "no"?"

She gave him a watery smile and reached behind her to pet her dog.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You're so handsome. Yes, you are. You're going to look like a new pup after I'm done with you."

Padfoot sighed, causing bubbles to blow into the air.

"I don't have any dog shampoo, but this shampoo is natural so hopefully it doesn't mess with your pH balance too much. Even if it did, I'm not sure that you would care. You seem pretty content."

The dog's head rested on the edge of the bath. His eyes closed and his breathing was low and relaxed. The aroma of lavender and chamomile wafted in the air. Padfoot hadn't felt warmth like this in years. The heat radiated through his bones and into his soul. He focused on the girl's soapy fingers that massaged into his fur, working out tension and dirt. Hermione wondered when the last time he had bathed was. Judging by the drastic color change in the water, she'd imagine he hadn't been taken care of in years or even at all. It broke her heart that someone could neglect an animal to this degree, especially a dog as sweet as him.

"We're going to have to figure out a name for you," Hermione told him, rambling as she rinsed him. She did a lot of talking, Padfoot noted. The girl never seemed to shut up. She had confided to him how lonely being an only child was, how much she loved animals, and how she was excited to finally have a pet. Padfoot wasn't quite sure what he has gotten himself into, but he was appreciative that she had found him. If it hadn't been for her, he was certain that a Muggle would have ran him over.

"Are you ready to get out soon? It's almost been an hour." Padfoot gave no sign that he heard her. "Don't you want food?" His ears perked up. He stood with newfound energy, hopped out of the tub, and shook himself. Water droplets flew everywhere, soaking Hermione. She threw her head back and laughed, her eyes sparkling. She dried him with her favorite towel before leading him to her bedroom.

"I'll be right back with your dinner."

Padfoot wasn't thrilled to eat dog food. He had eaten it before (on a dare, mind you) and it wasn't all that great. However, his stomach was clenched so tightly that he would have eaten his own tail at the moment if he could have reached it (he had also tried that on a different dare.)

Nothing could have prepared Padfoot for what Hermione had placed before him.

"My mom read somewhere that bland chicken and rice were good for dogs with upset stomachs. There are some soft carrots, too," she smiled at him and sat on the floor beside him. Padfoot looked at the food on a paper plate before him, and then cocking his head at her. I've hit the jackpot, he thought, and promptly began licking her face with ferocity.

Hermione threw her hands up in a futile defense. "Stop it! You're welcome! You're welcome! Down!" She squealed in between giggles.

Padfoot finally stopped when he remembered the food. He had never experienced Thanksgiving before. It was Muggle and American, so his knowledge of it was little to none, but he imagined that the plate before him could have been basically the same thing.

Padfoot devoured the chicken, ignoring all words of caution from the curly-haired teen. She pet him as he ate, admiring his long black fur. All too soon the food was gone. Padfoot turned his attention to the bowl of water. If someone had merely been eavesdropping on him, they would have assumed that a horse was drinking because of how loud he was. Finally satiated with water and drool dripping from his mouth, he turned back to the girl and threw himself in her lap. She leaned away for him for a moment and before Padfoot knew it, she was blow-drying his fur. I'm in the lap of luxury!


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days of Hermione's summer were the best of her life. She couldn't even remember what she did before she had a dog. He was perfect. He was house trained, didn't make any messes or tear up the house, and was ridiculously obedient. She could not believe how smart he was. It was a little eerie just how well he seemed to understand her. It was nice to have someone to talk to, but his reactions were almost human.

"Red or green?" She asked and held a colored pen in each hand.

 _Obviously red._ Padfoot huffed.

"Red?"

The dog gave out a short bark.

Hermione smiled and pet his head. "That's what I was going to choose!"

"Harry's birthday is tomorrow. I'm going to send him a birthday card tonight though. I don't want his relatives to see the card or gift."

Padfoot sighed softly. He was laying on top of the girl's bed with his head rested on his crossed paws. He watched her fret about her room. She was a funny girl. Despite his first impression of her, he thought that she was probably considered a quiet person. While she was constantly going on tangents to him, she would spend hours reading silently in the living room with her parents. However, the second her parents said something that sparked her interest, her eyes would light up and she would spend a solid ten minutes rambling or debating with them. Then she went back to silence once more. Hermione always seemed deep in thought during these silences. If she were a witch, Padfoot would have pegged her as a Ravenclaw.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" she began aloud. "Turning 13 is exciting! I know that when you see my gift that you'll roll your eyes. It's a notebook. As much as I love seeing you and Ron leave food stains on my notes, I think that this year we should mix it up and you two ruin your own notes instead!"

Padfoot held in a laugh. _Ravenclaw!_

"On an unrelated note: I'm really worried about you. If things get bad Harry, please don't hesitate to spend the rest of the summer with me. My parents love you and would love to have you over. I also have a dog that I want you to meet! With love, Hermione."

She taped her letter to a gold and red package before leaving the bedroom. I like her even more now.

She was incredibly kind to him. He was fed variations of chicken, rice, and vegetables. He assumed that his owners were eventually going to wean him onto dog kibble, which he was not looking forward to. Padfoot was pretty sure that the water they gave him was bottled, too. Hermione also took him on walks daily. The walks left Padfoot sore. It made him realize just how much muscle mass he had lost. Hell, he was locked in a 6x6 cell for 12 years. And he was 6'2"! It was awful!

When Hermione returned to her room, she came over and plopped herself alongside him on the bed. The lights were still on and she hadn't changed into her pajamas yet, but Padfoot could tell by the way that her eyes were fluttering close that she was about to fall asleep. This was the latest that he had ever seen her stay up.

_11:30pm? Wow. She's quite the party animal._

Padfoot inwardly chuckled as he moved to make his way to the foot of the bed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something brown sticking out of her hair.

_A feather?_

He immediately scrambled to her and inspected the feather

_An owl feather? AN OWL FEATHER!_

He barked at the girl and stuck his butt into the air, his tail wagging rapidly. Hermione rolled over so that her back was to him and grumpily shooed him away.

He jumped off the bed and immediately began inspecting the room with new eyes. His snoot was sniffing furiously along the carpet. Her bookshelf resembled the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but would you look at that?! HOGWARTS: A HISTORY!

_SHE'S A WITCH! A WITCH!_

Padfoot wasn't sure exactly what this meant for him, but he couldn't hold back the grin from his face. After over a decade of only being around Dementors, it was nice knowing that he now lived with a witch. He did not miss the Dementors. Every night since his escape, Padfoot was terrorized by them in his dreams. As the excitement of his discovery ebbed away, Padfoot made his way back onto Hermione's bed. He had a feeling that the freaky creatures would haunt him again tonight.  
_______________________________________________________________________

Harry had yet to write Hermione back. Despite Ron's continued attempts to make her play hangman with him (honestly, she already knew that the word was probably 'penis' simply because it was Ron and it was a five lettered word) she could tell that Ron was worried about Harry, too.

On top of that, her dog's behavior became puzzling seemingly overnight. Hermione did not know what had happened. He searched her room endlessly. Whenever she left the room, he would hurry after her and follow. Once he saw the inside of her closet, he took an immediate liking to her Hogwarts cloaks that were tucked in the back. Her dog finally seemed content when she wrapped him up in her cloak at night. Maybe Hogwarts scent comforted him as it did her?

The worst thing of all was that she still had yet to name him. Hermione had read so many books with so many characters in them, and yet she could not find a name that felt fitting. Her father referred to him as Black Jack, while her mother called him Cosmos. He seemed to like both of those names, but she couldn't bring herself to call him either of them. They felt close, but not quite right.

Hermione laid tucked under her covers when she felt Padfoot stand on the queen-sized bed on all fours. She peeled her eyes open to see the black mass with his tail stick straight, nose pointed to her door, and the fur along his neck and back raised. Curious and frightened by how alert her dog was, she reached under her bed for her baseball bat.

Joining softball in primary school had been a poor attempt at trying to make friends, but the bat in her hands definitely came in handy now. Maybe it was because it was 1AM or maybe it was because she was a reckless Gryffindor, but Hermione eased open her bedroom door. Her bare feet padded down the hallway as she followed her dog to the front of the house. Her goosebumps along her arms and legs were illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight through blinds.

Padfoot stopped before the front door, hackles raised, and let out a deep, guttural growl that she had never heard him make before. She peeked through the peephole in the door.

Through the fisheye view she saw none other than her best friend Harry Potter. He was wearing an oversized ratty hoodie and grass-stained torn jeans. His eyes were bloodshot and his lip quivering, but under it all was Harry Potter.

"Love, it's okay. I know who it is," she whispered to her dog who immediately sobered up and calmly moved aside.

"Be a good boy and go back to my room? I'll be there in a bit," Hermione watched as Padfoot eyed her before heading back into the shadows towards her room.

The unlocking of the door was loud in the quiet of the night. Harry raised his head in surprise. Hermione stood in the doorway with her mouth open yet no words coming out. She knew that Ron was his best mate. Why didn't Harry go to Ron's? Hermione also knew that Harry wasn't going to be the one to initiate the hug, but Hermione knew that he needed it. She gently wrapped her arms around him and felt him stiffen before he embraced her back. Though they were the same height, Hermione felt his head tuck into the crook of her neck. Her neck felt suspiciously wet, but she would never tell Harry that. The last thing he needed right now was to feel dumb for crying. This was why he came to me, she thought as she felt his emotions pouring off him and waves.

"I blew up Aunt Marge," he mumbled the confession into her shoulder. "She looked like a blimp," he admitted before pulling back and looking into Hermione's eyes.

She struggled to think of what Ron would do in this situation. All she wanted to do was berate Harry for being so irresponsible. Accidental magic at 13? On a Muggle? Really?

"Isn't that her normal state?" Hermione said.

Harry quirked a watery smile before entering her house. They chatted a bit as Hermione fixed the two of them cups of tea. She stirred in a bit of sugar before handing the mug to the distraught boy.

"I'm gonna have to go back to them," Harry said.

"Because of the blood wards?" She asked.

Harry nodded. They sipped their teas in silence. The clock ticked in the background and a lone cricket was heard.

"What are you thinking, Hermione?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't act like I don't know you. You're too quiet. You're thinking of something. What is it?"

She smiled at him, a little embarrassed by how predictable she was. "Magic is all about intent, yeah?"

Harry nodded.

"You were raised Muggle, too. Have you ever heard of becoming blood brothers?"

He nodded once more before furrowing his eyebrows.

"You want to be my brother?" He asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. Harry snorted, realizing his error.

"What exactly would becoming "blood brothers" do?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me. You know everything."

She laughed at him. "I don't know everything. I really don't know what it would do, but if we intend to become actual siblings through the "ritual", then who's to say that the blood wards wouldn't cover you when you're with me?"

Harry's mouth gaped open. He ran his hand through his untamable hair. "Geez, Hermione... I don't know. Blood magic can be pretty heavy. And isn't "blood thicker than water"? Wouldn't Aunt Petunia's bond trump yours and mine?"

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb," she corrected him.

Her words hung in the air. Harry folded his hands on the table. He really hated living with the Dursleys, so shouldn't the obvious answer be "yes"? Maybe he should think this through though...Hell, when had he ever thought things through? What did he have to lose?

"Isn't this kind of reckless?"

"Yes…"

"Okay. I'm game."

Hermione snorted and walked over to a drawer and pulled out a short knife. She turned on the gas stove and held the knife over the flame until the metal glowed. Hermione then held it under a steady cold stream of water under the sink faucet until the metal no longer hissed and released steam.

She sat back down across the table from Harry. He watched as she created a small scratch onto the palm of her hand. Harry held his hand palm up to her and tried to school his expression to conceal the slight pain. Once the blood began to bead from the scratch, he reached for her hand and the two of them intertwined fingers. Their blood mingled together. He thought of all of the times that Hermione had stayed by his side. He thought of how she always helped him; whether it be loaning him almost all of her quills throughout the school year or by spending hours in the library studying how to help him in his next moral dilemma. He had good friends. His heart clenched as he thought about how much he cared for them.

Hermione and Harry's hands emitted a soft gold glow before fading. They felt their energy deplete.

"C'mon. You can sleep in my bed tonight," she said, ready for some peace and quiet.

The second they entered her room, her dog attacked.

Padfoot threw himself at Harry. Harry fell to his knees and struggled to stand as a giant black ball of fur licked his face all over. The dog whined and barked at Harry.

"Down, boy. Down! Be nice. Oh my goodness, Harry. I'm so sorry. I've never seen him act like this!" Hermione said amidst her dog's bizarre noises and Harry's breathless laughter.

Harry wrapped his arms around the dog and felt the dog's squirming slow down.

"Hey there!" Harry said to the dog who barked in response. "What's his name?" Harry grinned up at Hermione.

"Not sure. My parents both have different names for him and I haven't decided what to call him yet."

Harry cupped the panting dog's face before petting his head. "I think his name is Bear."

"But he's a dog?" She retorted.

"He's a bear. Look at the size of him Hermione."

She shook her head at him and promptly grabbed an extra pillow and threw it onto her bed.

Harry struggled to shed his hoodie as the dog jumped onto him. Harry and Hermione both crawled into bed and allowed the exhaustion to take over them. The two of them locked hands sometime during the night. Probably around the same time Padfoot crawled halfway on top of Harry and stared at the sleeping teen's face until the wee hours of the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

If Dr. Wilbur and Dr. Jean Granger were bothered at all by their new house guest, they gave no indication of it. In fact, the guest bedroom's closet was suddenly full of clothes approximately Harry's size. The clothes were a bit too large, but infinitely better than Dudley Dursley's hand-me-downs. As Hermione settled into her chair at breakfast, she also noticed that her parents had added a fourth chair to the table. Their usual light breakfast of egg whites and fruits was replaced by hearty omelets and sausage.

 _Subtle_ , Hermione noted, eyeing the protein.

Hermione reached across the table and squeezed her father's hand. He glanced over the top of the newspaper he was reading and squeezed her hand in return. The sudden burst of warmth she felt in her heart for her parents was almost painful. Hermione knew that she was blessed to have such loving parents.

"Good morning, sunshine," he smiled. The two of them began filling their plate as Jean sang softly along to the television playing 70's music in between bites of her food.

Harry slowly shuffled to the doorway. His hair was disheveled, but since he was a Potter that was a given. His clothes were wrinkled from sleep and hung loosely on his body. His hand was petting the black dog who walked beside him every step of the way.

"Good morning, Harry!" Jean greeted, her pearly whites on full display. She gestured towards the chair between herself and Hermione and began pouring Harry a glass of milk.

Whole milk? Her mother was nearly as bad as Molly Weasley who shoved food down Harry's throat.

"Did you sleep well, love?" Jean asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said. He ducked his head to hide the red staining his cheeks.

Jean casually slid a bottle of Teen Vitamins! between Hermione and Harry and stared intently at her daughter.

I've never taken these before? Hermione thought before her eyes widened. Oh. She unscrewed the cap and poured two into her palm, giving one to Harry.

"Harry, we are so glad you're here. The yard is an absolute disaster. Wilbur and I have no idea what we're doing, but Hermione told us that you're quite the gardener at your aunt and uncle's house," Jean said, passing Harry the plate of sausage.

Wilbur wasted no time continuing with his wife's rant, "The yard needs so much work and we know that Hermione can't do it by herself while Jean and I are at the practice. Do you think you would be able to stay here and help Hermione out? You would be doing us such a huge favor," he said, never looking away from his newspaper.

Harry looked from Hermione's soft smile to Jean's expectant eyes. "I'd love to help, sir."

"Excellent!" Jean grinned and returned to singing along to the music as she forked an omelet stuffed with vegetables onto Harry's plate.

The remainder of their breakfast passed by quietly. Padfoot found himself laying against Harry and Hermione's feet, accepting the sausage that the two slipped under the table. Dr. and Dr. Granger purposely ignored this, allowing the kids to exchange secret smiles throughout the meal.

After showering and preparing for the day, the two teens and their dog meandered to the backyard and listened to Hermione's parents' wild vision. Hermione had a feeling that her parents did not care about gardening whatsoever, but she was not about to tell Harry that. She had noticed the tension that visibly loosened from his shoulders when her parents asked him to stay with them.

While Hermione's parents were successful and stable adults, she knew that her mother had an unpleasant childhood. It was for that reason that Jean constantly asked Hermione about Harry's wellbeing. Hermione did not know what her mom's childhood entailed, but she had a feeling that it closely resembled Harry's…minus the whole "Chosen One" bit. Minor detail.

Armed with gloves and shovels, the pair waved goodbyes to Dr. and Dr. Granger and spent the morning pulling unruly weeds from flowerbeds. The sun beat down on the teens, causing sweat to gather at their brows. The longer the pair pulled weeds, the slower they became. Multiple times they stopped to massage their arms. Their breaths came out in puffs and their faces were stained red. Hermione eventually had to force herself to take a break much to her irritation.

Youngest Seeker of the Century: 1

Brightest Witch of Her Age: 0

But who was keeping score anyway? Once the weeds were eradicated, the digging began. Padfoot stopped sunbathing and decided to join along much to teens' amusement.

Around noon they all gathered indoors to tidy up and enjoy sandwiches and water. Padfoot had yet to transition to dog food and instead was given more chicken and vegetables that her dad had kept in the refrigerator for the dog. Sirius had never eaten vegetables in his youth but receiving vegetables as Padfoot made him feel quite pampered.

Before long the teens leashed Padfoot and made their way down the street, heading to Albert's Greenhouse half a mile away.

"You need to get Bear something more stylish," Harry said, referring to the dog and his red leash and collar.

"Such as?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow.

"I dunno. A spiked collar? A leather jacket?"

"I will not clothe my dog! That's ridiculous"

"It's stylish."

"Ridiculous," Hermione scoffed as they approached their destination.

The greenhouse was lush and carried an array of plants. Hermione only had a vague idea of what each plant was. Harry, however, either knew everything there was to know about a plant or absolutely nothing at all. Hermione allowed Harry to take control of the shopping, trusting that he knew which plants would work best for the season and climate. She noticed that he gravitated to all the lilies even though they were unlikely to flourish in the summer heat. Padfoot seemed to enjoy them, too, sniffing each lily he came across.

After purchasing the flowers with the money Hermione's parents left behind, they soon realized the flaw in their plan. The two teens precariously stacked as many flowers as they could in their arms. Hermione had never been more thankful that her dog was so well-behaved. He walked off leash the way home with them, wagging his tail as the pair bickered about the ungodly number of flowers they carried.

Planting the flowers proved to be the fun part of gardening. As the sun lowered in the sky, Harry and Hermione planted while chatting away about school. Before long, the last flower was placed in its bed and they stepped back from their work.

"This looks amazing, kiddos," Jean Granger exclaimed from behind the teens.

Hermione turned and smiled at her mother. Wilbur Granger exited the back porch of the house, shrugging off his work coat.

"Wow, Harry. You sure do have a gift," He said, admiring the garden.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, ducking his head.

"It looks like you both spent all day out here. It really paid off," Wilbur smiled.

"Let's all get inside. Your father is making dinner tonight," Jean smiled, ushering the kids and their dog indoors.

Inside Wilbur delegated the cooking, and Harry and Hermione found themselves cutting up vegetables and tossing salad. The pair took this as an opportunity to show off their chopping skills that they had acquired from two years of potions. Hermione would like it to be noted that her carrots were obviously finer sliced.

Youngest Seeker of the Century: 1

Brightest Witch of Her Age: 1

…but again, who was keeping score?

As they settled into their dinner, Hermione noticed how her mother piled fettucine alfredo onto Harry's plate. Jean and Wilbur recounted their day to Harry and Hermione. Harry had never given much thought into the life of a dentist, but their stories definitely changed the perspective he had on the career.

"-and then they sneezed in your father's face."

"Oh no!" Hermione threw her hands to her face as Harry choked back a laugh.

"I have never been more thankful for the masks we wear," Wilbur said as he gave a shudder.

"That's crazy," Harry said shaking his head with a grin.

Jean glanced over at her daughter, "Love, do you remember how we were supposed to go on our trip this summer, but we had to reschedule because of an emergency surgery?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, your dad and I agree that now would be the best time to go on vacation, don't you think so?"

Hermione nodded again, her smile widening.

"After dinner do you think that you two will be able to pack your bags for tomorrow morning?"

Harry and Hermione nodded eagerly.

"Harry, you'll love France," Wilbur said.

Wilbur was right: Harry really loved France.

He loved the cottage that the Grangers rented for them to stay in. He loved the architecture and the people. He loved the mountains and ocean scenery. And by Godric did he love the food. The markets with fresh bread, meat, and cheese!

This was the first vacation that Harry had ever been on and it was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. His favorite part of the trip by far was lounging at the beach. Him, Padfoot, and Hermione found themselves spending entire mornings just lying on the shore in silence. They had no concept of time. There was no rush to be anywhere or to do anything. In the evenings they lazily strolled through the town exploring various shops. They were typical tourists and Harry could not have been happier by the entire normalcy of walking into crowds without anyone recognizing him and his lightning bolt scar.

All too soon the considerably darker complexioned teens found themselves in Diagon Alley, shopping for Harry's school supplies.

"I cannot believe that you waited until literally the very last minute to finish buying your books," Hermione said, licking her butterbeer ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

Harry struggled to contain all of his books within his satchel, burying The Monster Book of Monsters to the very bottom. "I was busy this summer," he shrugged sheepishly.

"We need to leave within the next hour if we want to make the train on time," Hermione said.

"You mean I can't arrive in Mr. Weasley's car again?" Harry laughed, dodging Hermione's hand that made to slap him upside the head.

"You're unbelievable," she said.

"No, I'm Harry Potter," he joked.

"And I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic."

Harry turned to look up at the man whose hand clamped down on his shoulder. Harry immediately recognized the man. He had seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father's Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn't to know that.

Fudge sat down in the empty chair at their table, gesturing his hand to the waiter before requesting tea and crumpets. He nodded to both of the teens before turning to Harry.

"Well, Harry," said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think… but you're safe, and that's what matters."

Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Harry.

"You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done."

Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favorite nephew. Harry, who couldn't believe his ears, opened his mouth to speak, couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again.

"Hang on," blurted Harry. "What about my punishment?"

Fudge blinked.

"Punishment?"

"I broke the law!" Harry said. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"

But this didn't tally at all with Harry's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic.

"Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house!" he told Fudge, frowning. "The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!"

Unless Harry's eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward.

"Circumstances change, Harry… We have to take into account… in the present climate… Surely you don't want to be expelled?"

"Of course I don't," said Harry.

"Then everything is settled," Fudge clapped his hands together and smiled down at the boy.

Hermione could feel Harry's anxiety radiating off him. "With all due respect Minister, we ought to be leaving soon to catch the train," Hermione said and rose from her chair. Harry followed suit.

"Ah, yes! Go enjoy your third year, children," Fudge said with a smile that did not meet his eyes.

Harry and Hermione scrambled away, not sure exactly what to say.

Harry interrupted the silence, "Before we leave I want to fetch Scabbers some medicine. Ron wrote that Fred and George slipped the poor bugger something in Egypt that made him sick."

The tension that lingered from their encounter with Fudge dissolved. Hermione rolled her eyes as they took a right and entered Magical Menagerie. The door chimed as the pair walked in. The musky aroma of animals swirled in the dry air and felt almost suffocating.

"I wish Bear could have joined us at Hogwarts," Hermione said, using the name Harry called her dog.

"I'm sure he'll do just fine with your parents," Harry reassured.

"I know…I just miss him already."

"I miss him, too."

Harry led the way down the aisles, making his way to the very back of the shop. Caged animals lined the shelves.

"I need an owl," Hermione said, thinking of the Eeylops Owl Emporium just two doors down.

"What do you need an owl for anyway? You can use Hedwig anytime. The Owlery is always open. What's the point?"

"The point is that I want an owl of my own."

Hermione came to a halt as something caught her eye, "Oh my god."

Harry turned around to see what she was looking at. "Oh my god," he agreed.

A lopsided cage coated in dust was shoved further back than the other cages on the shelf. Staring back at the teens were a set of piercing and calculating grey eyes set into the face of a very squashed face.

"Isn't he the most handsome cat that you've ever seen?" Hermione breathed.

Harry's neck snapped in her direction. It was the ugliest cat Harry had ever seen.

"He's…lovely, Hermione, but why don't we go look at the owls at the Emporium after I buy the rat tonic?" Harry sputtered, placing his hand under her elbow, trying to guide her to the rat section so they could quickly make their way to the next shop.

Hermione stood her ground, captivated by the cat. "Whatever for? I can use Hedwig anytime and the Owlery is always open."

Harry grimaced and ran his hand through his hair.

The cat slinked its way to the front of his cage, cocking his head. Hermione extended her hand forward, her fingertips barely in between the bars of his cage.

The shopkeeper hobbled down the aisle faster than one would expect of a woman her age, "Lass, you might want to remove your hand from there! That feline is a mean old bastard. He's been here for Godric knows how long and has scratched the living daylights out of anyone who so much as looks at him!"

With bated breath, Hermione watched as the fluffy, ginger cat nuzzled her fingers and purred. Hermione's grin stretched across her face.

Harry and the shopkeeper looked at the girl incredulously.

"How much for him?" Hermione asked, never taking her eyes off the cat.

"Uhm…Free. Nobody wants this kneazle," the shopkeeper said.

"Kneazle?" Harry inquired.

"They're magical felines. Highly intelligent and can smell a rat a mile away. They're like a living Sneakoscope. They're also known for being incredibly aggressive when they're full bred. The one your friend is petting is only half-kneazle," the shopkeeper said, cringing when she saw Hermione open the feline's cage and cradle him in her arms.

Harry gathered supplies for Hermione's new…thing… as she was too distracted cooing to it. The silent bond that formed between him and the shopkeeper lingered in the air as both were utterly puzzled by how Hermione was so enamored with the beast of a cat.

Harry promptly checked out with Scabbers' tonic and Hermione's cat supplies.

"Oh, Harry you didn't have to pay for me!"

"It's not a problem," he said. _Good god, that was an ugly cat,_ he thought. "What's your cat's name?"

"Crookshanks," she immediately replied.

"Hermione…that's awful. I cannot call him that. Give me something else."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him before returning her loving gaze back to the furball in her arms, "I suppose you can call him 'Leo'."

She laughed as she saw the cat's pupils dilate as he stared into her eyes. Slowly inching his way from her hold on him, he sniffed her hair…and then a little more…and then with more ferocity.

"I think he can smell Bear on you."

"You think so?"

"Probably. That big, black mutt always sleeps with his head on your pillow. You probably have his scent on you."

"You're right," Hermione said, smiling at her new beloved who seemed intent to do nothing but sniff her.

_________________________________________

"What. In The. Bloody. Hell. Is. That.?" Ron said through a mouth of treacle tart.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" said Hermione, glowing.

Ron looked up behind Hermione's shoulder to where Harry stood. Harry nodded his head furiously.

"Uhh…" Ron said.

Crookshanks leaped from Hermione's arms and wandered around the train's compartment. Ron flinched away from the cat. Crookshanks, however, had other things on his mind and crept his bowlegs over to the sleeping man in the corner. Professor R. J. Lupin, according to the name tag on his suitcase. Probably the yearly defense teacher if Hermione had to guess.

Crookshanks took his time sniffing the professor's foot before his bushy tail shot straight into the air. Immediately the cat turned and bolted after Scabbers who was creeping towards the door. The cat gave chase to the rat and shrieks could be heard from other compartments. The Golden Trio ran after the animals, but by the time they reached the compartment door, the pets were out of sight.

"Hermione! Your beast is going to kill Scabbers!"

"He's not a beast!"

"Like hell he's not! Did you see that ugly mug? He looks like he belongs in the book Hagrid made us get for Care of Magical Creatures!"

"Take that back Ronald Billius Weasley!"

"Take your cat back to the cardboard box in a back alley you found him from!"

"Ronald!"

"Hermione!"

The lights went out.

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Hermione and Ron finally noticed that the train had stopped. Coldness unlike any that they had ever felt crept into their bones.

Harry clumsily gripped his friends' arms in the dark. The trio felt Professor R.J. Lupin try to move in front of them.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water…

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

Lupin shoved his way through. One arm extended in front of the teens to guard them, while his wand arm cut through the air like a whip.

"Expecto Patronum!" His hoarse voice bellowed. A majestic, silver wolf lunged towards the looming dark figure and chased it away.

Harry's body had gone limp. Hermione and Ron desperately clutched the boy and held him up. Go, Mom, Hermione thought as she noticed just how much weight Harry had gained over the summer.

The lights returned to the train and the engine roared.

Professor Lupin turned to the trio before his eyes firmly landed on Harry. Ron and Hermione dragged Harry to a seat. Lupin went to the corner where he had been resting and retrieved a chocolate bar from his bag.

"Here, this will help him," He said and handed Ron a square of chocolate.

"…Sure it will…Thanks…" Ron said, eyeing the candy.

"Ron!" Hermione chastised and yanked the chocolate from his hand.

Harry's eyes slowly fluttered open. "What happened?" He croaked.

"Dementors," Lupin replied.

Harry raised his head to look at the professor. Hermione promptly shoved the piece of chocolate into Harry's mouth with enough ferocity that would have made Molly Weasley proud.

"Please excuse me," Lupin said, and made his way to the front of the train where the Head Girl and Head Boy compartment was.

"What are dementors?" Harry asked.

Ron looked at Harry incredulously. "You know about Azkaban, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"…Do you know anything about what has happened with Azkaban recently?" Ron asked both Harry and Hermione.

They both shook their head 'no.'

"It's everywhere! Where have you guys been the last week?"

"France," They replied.

"Oh, yeah. Damn," Ron scratched his head, "I mean, I don't know a lot about it. Just what I hear mum and dad talk about when they thought we weren't around… I don't think I should be the one telling you, Harry, but you're my best mate and I owe it toyou  
to tell you-"

"Ron, what is it?" Hermione interrupted.

Ron sighed. "A prisoner recently escaped."

"How does that affect me?" Harry asked.

Ron laughed without any trace of humor, "Mate, when does anything bad not affect you?" He asked before delving into the story of Prisoner ᚷᛉ-390: Sirius Black.


End file.
